


Focus

by Mismaed



Series: Junkrat Drabbles [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (aka I can't pay attention during my enviro science class again), It's mostly Junkrat, being a fidgety little shit during a briefing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mismaed/pseuds/Mismaed
Summary: They really shouldn't have expected Junkrat to sit still and  just focus.





	

Tap.

 

Tap.

 

Tap.

 

His peg leg steadily beat against the ground, marking a steady, quick-paced rhythm in time. A glare was shot from the side, causing Jamison to frown and return the gesture, but he stilled his leg regardless. Instead, the motion shifted to his fingers- the soft pads of his fingers drumming softly against the table set before him.

 

The woman in front of him, and those who also occupied the room, he supposed- was droning on, the combination of her high pitched voice and accent drawing Junkrat’s attention away from the words being said and instead causing him to focus on the sounds.

 

He was at a loss for how to describe it. Having spent a majority of his life lurking in the desolate landscape of Australia, he was far from familiar with foreign accents, languages, appearances or anything similar. Even if he squinted at this speaker, he had difficulties noting any major differences in nationality. Granted, she was pale, and her hair rather dark compared to both his own and Mako’s, but assuming he’d been able to stay indoors for a decade Jamison was sure he’d start to match that fair skin… he thinks. He was just beginning to realize how much the sun had stained his skin all of these years.

 

The small female to his right, the same which had glared at him earlier, drew him back to attention by clearing her throat and giving him another pointed look. He stared back at her, confused. 

 

“What?” He hissed, quietly as he was able.

 

She exhaled slowly, eyes darting between his and his hand. It took a moment, but Jamison eventually realized the tapping of his fingers had increased dramatically in volume and was now louder than his leg had originally been. Letting out his own huff of irritation, he shifts again and settles with his prosthetic leg propped up on the other and arms crossed, leaning as far back into his chair as possible. Once settled, he shoots a look to the, as far as he was concerned, obnoxious agent next to him- expression shaped as if to say “you happy?” with as much sass as possible.

 

All he got was a smirk in response.

 

That did it.

 

Letting out a muffled, closed mouth scream, Junkrat shifted with a jerk to crouch over the table and began aggressively tapping his fingers with both hands and stared at the woman next to him with a grin, eyes wide with intensity. When her lips parted to speak, he laughed and made a shushing noise, shifting to tap his metal leg as well.

 

“Jamison!”

 

Shit.

 

The stout woman which had been speaking shouted out his name, causing him to freeze and shoot her a glare. Couldn’t she see he was busy? She could just go back to talking- not that he cared about whatever was coming out of her trap. Something about the environment or some shit like that. They should really take a look at his home turf, they wouldn’t be so scared about this area's landscape then. After glancing to the darker skinned woman next to him again, mentally noting the twitching stare of irritation on her face, Jamison returned his attention to the front. 

 

“What?!” He shouted back, exasperation clear in his voice. They’d expected him to sit still and listen for three entire hours. It was barely forty five minutes in.

 

“Have you even been listening?” She asks, voice already returning to it’s previous volume. “Why are you purposely irritating those around you?”

 

He? Irritating those around him? Hah, that wasn’t on purpose until the damned sheila had pissed him off. Banging his fist on the table he was quick to reply- refusing to lower his own volume. “I’m fuckin’ BORED, that’s why, ya dr-” A large hand had found it’s way over his mouth- and half of his face, for that matter- muffling the remaining screams enough that the words were unrecognizable. Looking up, the familiar sight of his bodyguard loomed above him. 

 

He lets out a scream of frustration at the sudden intrusion, glaring at Roadhog. The mask stared back blankly. “Shut up.” The voice was low, quiet, and accented by Junkrat suddenly being picked up and forcefully dragged to the back corner of the room the behemoth had been lurking in previously. Thrashing all the way, Jamison held still only long enough to shoot the rudest gesture he could manage to his previous table mate.

 

After settling back in the corner, still holding a convulsing rat to his side, he nods to the woman which had been speaking. She looked flustered, but after a few seconds hesitation gave him a small smile of appreciation before carrying on with her lecture.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm bored as fuck in class again. Figured I'd write instead of earning the wrath of the lecture hall by fidgeting.


End file.
